


hamartia

by miehczyslaw



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Body Horror, F/F, Mild Sexual Content, Murder Kink, the gore of Love and all that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 07:33:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21175736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miehczyslaw/pseuds/miehczyslaw
Summary: “You are very cruel, Hairu,” she whines.Ihei bites inside her thighs, tenderly. Pushes her tongue inside, along with her fingers. Makes her scream.“Yes, I guess so.”





	hamartia

She’s a carnivorous plant with cotton candy and milk teeth, she has a hole in her chest (just above the heart of oxidized wire) and she has sutures at the base of her neck, too. If she spins very fast her head dislodges and it hangs from back with _superb grace_, only worthy of a young woman.

So everyone warns her with caution, from time to time, “_Be careful Hairu_, you’re going to lose your mind.” But she just smiles at them, her mouth trampled.

(It’s just so funny, you know! _She lost it_ a long time ago, what things they say.)

So the hole gets bigger and insects crawl inside it, laugh at each other and tell children’s stories to make her sleep.

(“Come on, come on, Arima-san is waiting for us in the flower field”).

But it turns out that she’s a maiden— _strawberry rotting in beauty_— and Ihei is not sleepy yet. She jumps and turns gracefully, moves like a gazelle about to be eaten by a lion— even if nobody knows that Ihei hides fangs and claws and is not as helpless as her image reveals.

She fades, slowly.

“Arima-san—”

Then she bumps into a crow.

X

Touka Kirishima— rabbit-crow-_book of cheap poems_— is ungainly and violent under a layer of harmless blue petals. Everything she is not.

And she bewitches her.

With her broken mosaic hands and her huge puddle eyes she works in a cafeteria and seems to wait for a boy who will never arrive.

(Both are dazzled with hot summer snow.)

So Touka says:

“It’s very cold here, I had to eat the sun.”

And Ihei knows immediately that Touka, this barista, is not human. Nonetheless, she doesn’t care in the least. On the contrary, that fact alone increases her interest.

And her pulse of piano dyed notes accelerates, that written in an illegible score.

For no reason Ihei smiles at her, meek and a little cynical.

“Touka-san, you’re very pretty, you know? I think I like you. Warm and bitter, like those cups of coffee that you prepare with such care.”

Touka blinks and must restrain herself from spreading her wings and fly away from her shame. Ihei has already guessed her intentions. (To be honest, she’d like to put shackles on her wrists and keep her in the golden cage inside her ribs, there it has a splendid view of the sea of her guts. Touka would like it, she thinks.)

“You’re so broken,” Touka says, almost surprised.

(_Just like me_, it’s what she doesn’t add).

And Ihei narrows her eyes, still smiling.

“Thank you Touka-san.”

She takes it as a compliment.

X

She visits her daily, then, in that realm of wonders and terrors known as life. Tokyo looks almost lovely when Ihei is with Touka. Almost as if it had a certain magic, almost as if it were part of a horror story.

But then again. Maybe it is.

Ihei forgets Arima-san for a minute and Touka doesn’t remember Kaneki_(whyyouleftme)_ either.

So it’s all good.

For awhile.

Because Touka is perpetually hungry and it hurts her in her bones, in her muscles, in her skin— inside, deep inside. Ihei only can watch her eat (herself).

_For awhile_.

Then she starts to join Touka in her hunting at times, and helps her choose a random person from all those who walk in a hurry to work or to school or who simply decided to take a walk around, oblivious to their fatal destiny.

Other ghouls crawl on the streets too and they scratch the pavement and there is blood bathing the sidewalk. The cops must have to clean it later.

(Almost lovely, indeed.)

“Mother never liked to get her carpet dirty, that’s why she used to sent me to the garden,” says Ihei casually. “Blood may be difficult to remove from cloths, but it’s easily removed from grass.”

Touka nods, agreeing. And picks out a young human in their earlier-twenties for lunch.

She breaks their arm, rips off their legs, tears apart their torso with her scissor fingers. And starts chewing.

Suddenly Touka has a red jungle in her stomach.

To Ihei she seems simply_ beautiful_.

X

When Touka finishes she feels dirty and unpleasant, but Ihei caresses her face and kisses the tip of her nose.

“Hairu, you tickle me,” she snorts, quite sullen without intention.

(and you take my breath away, and you steal my gravity, and you cause me to fall to the floor, right at your feet...)

She does not answer immediately. Ihei discovers that there are roses stuck in her throat— pricking her with its thorns— and her mouth bleeds just like in a grotesque joke.

“Oh? Sorry, you looked _too adorable_ for me to resist,” she confesses, very quiet. And she takes her hand. They start running.

Ihei manages to hear Touka’s stifled laughter and they don’t stop until they are in an almost empty park.

And there are ladybugs hovering above, and centipedes crawling down.

And around them _the shadows move, move_.

Touka refuses to let her go.

“Can I tell you a secret, Touka-san?”

Touka looks at her.

“Sure.”

Ihei strokes her flushed cheeks with her free hand, its made of poisoned silk. She draws mysterious figures in Touka’s skin with her fingertips.

(Alicia, you will lose your mind.)

_Excuse me, excuse me, but_—

_I want to open your chest wide open and use your ribs as a milkshake sorbet to drink your sugarie blood. I want to play ping-pong with your pretty eyes_.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Then Touka leans forward, before she can say anything else, and their lips meet. She tastes like death and peaches.

(it’s sweet.)

X

In the quietness of the night.

It turns out that Ihei’s touch is that of a butterfly with its wings torn off, flying awkwardly towards the jaws of despair.

It turns out that Touka likes to lick her candy bones, as if they were holy.

With her saliva she waters her in times of drought.

And Ihei brings her fingers up to Touka’s belly button— and a little lower—

Touka can’t help but sigh and rearm her pieces, those that don’t match.

“You are very cruel, Hairu,” she whines.

Ihei bites inside her thighs, tenderly. Pushes her tongue inside, along with her fingers. Makes her scream.

“Yes, I guess so.”

_Like a satellite in the sea and a coral in the sky, like a blasphemy in the church and a prayer in hell, like watercolors getting wet, like me on my knees begging for your love_.

(In the quietness of the night.)

X

There is still a hole in her chest.

But Touka fills it

with

[love.

_And Ihei breaks_.

X

They’re both surreal art.


End file.
